Hey Jude
by Opalora
Summary: Inspired by the song. Dean remembers times he heard the song. Just a one-shot. Rated T for safety.


The first time he remembered hearing the song, he was four years old. His mother was leaning over his bed, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she tucked him in so tightly into his bed. Her fingers ran through his hair as she sang to him. Her eyes twinkled with contentment and such hope for her eldest son, and for the child that was on the way. She had a name all picked out. Marys' hair shone like spun gold in the dim light. The memory of her was an old one, faded now behind dark memories in hotel rooms and spilled blood. Her voice was soft and sweet and she stayed until he was far off in dreamland, and stayed with him long after her death.

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid_

_You were made to go out and get her_

_The minute you let her under your skin_

_Then you begin to make it better_

The next time he remembered hearing it was when he was ten. He was looking after Sammy who had caught a bad cold, and was all sniffles and coughs. Sammy was almost asleep, tucked in so tight. Dean sat on the side of his brothers' bed and he was stroking his hair and singing the words as best he could while his little brother drifted off to sleep. He knows he hummed in places where the words had been lost. About half way through the song his father burst into the room, reeking of drink, blood and disappointment. He caught the words falling from Deans mouth and he scowled.

"Shut it Dean, I don't ever want to hear you sing THAT song again. Go to bed now!" He shouted. Dean cowered in his fathers' shadow which fell across him when the bedroom door was opened. There were tears in his father's eyes that Dean never saw as he tried to hide his own.

"Yes Sir." Dean said, trying to sound brave. He climbed into his bed and closed his eyes. He heard his father close the door behind him and the sound of the TV in the next room grew louder.

_And any time you feel pain, hey Jude, refrain_

_Don't carry the world on your shoulders_

_For well you know it's a fool who plays it cool_

_By making his world a little colder_

_Hey Jude, don't let me down_

_You have found her, now go and get her_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

The next time he remembered hearing the song, he was sitting at the table in the bunker cleaning his guns like his father had taught him. _'Take care of your guns and they'll take care of you_.' Suddenly the tune reached his ears, there were no words. He looked up and Sam was sitting across from him fiddling with one of the artifacts they had found. The tune floated out of his mouth with his breath almost unconsciously. He looked up from the puzzle box at Dean who was staring at him wide eyed.

"Sorry, am I annoying you?" Sam asked. Dean smiled awkwardly.

"No, it's just I haven't heard that song in quite a few years." He said. Sam huffed a laugh "Took me by surprise."

"Sorry." Sam said with a hint of a smile.

"It's fine." Dean said smiling back. He turned back to his guns and Sam resumed the tune.

_So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin_

_You're waiting for someone to perform with_

_And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do_

_The movement you need is on your shoulder_

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad,_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her under your skin_

_Then you'll begin to make it better_

The last time Dean heard the song, he was holding onto the broken body of his little brother. Sam's big round puppy eyes looked into his pleadingly, as if his big brother could save him. Dean knew all possible ways of keeping him alive had been exhausted. Sam gripped Dean's collar with a bloodied hand. Dean pulled him close, unable to stop the tears from running down his cheeks.

"_Hey Jude..._" Dean sang as he wrapped his arms tighter around Sam, "_Don't make it bad_." His voice cracked as he stroked his brothers' hair. A smile crept onto Sam's' bloodless lips "_Take a sad song and make it better._" Dean pressed his lips against Sam's' forehead. "_Remember to let her into your heart._" Sam grip loosened and Dean sobbed loudly, tears flowing without restraint. The light faded from Sam's eyes. "_Then you will start to make it better."_


End file.
